


Hard To Be God.

by theweakestthing



Category: Death Note
Genre: Hannibal AU, I'm struggling a little, M/M, SO, Ugh, hehe, it's my first time writing death note, shrugs, sorry this might be a little (or wildly) ooc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-16 21:20:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5841379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theweakestthing/pseuds/theweakestthing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's hard to be God, but it sure is never boring."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sleep was something that L wasn’t really that well acquainted with and it evaded him long into the night, sometimes making him chase it until the sun rose. Other times, it pulled at him when he just wanted it to leave him alone, like a neglected lover trying to seduce him into bed. The pair danced around each other and it was a very rare thing when they found the sweet spot, balanced perfectly for a night of blissful nothingness as L fell into REM sleep for probably the first time in months.

There was something to be said about the sounds that came from the thicket surrounding his secluded house in the dead of night, small animals startling themselves with the sounds of twigs breaking under their feet. It did nothing to stir L, he’d often found it easier to find comfort in places where others did not.

The black under his eyes was just another part of him, something that spoke more of his resilience and stubbornness than his lack of sleep, that part was fairly evident.

He was only ever late to engagements that he deemed a waste of his time but was unable to get out of attending. People thought him rude, antisocial and terrible at most, if not all, human interactions, it wasn’t exactly like they were wrong but it was just that L really did not care.

L was never late for his classes though, delighting in the absorbent eyes of his students, no one spoke unless spoken to and everyone was attentive. Fingers wrapped around the clicker, unlike other professors, L didn’t pace. After a while he’d learnt not to perch on his chair, he didn’t especially need the higher cognitive abilities that it afforded and his students were quite vocal about their displeasure. Instead, he just leaned against the edge of his desk and spoke from there, moving around would just distract his students from his lesson.

He’d loved departing knowledge onto others, especially those fertile and eager minds, but that was soon to be sullied he realised as he watched the man he’d only met once before enter the lecture hall. Suichi Aizawa was a man of fortitude and walked with the strength that his stature allowed him, L knew exactly what the other man wanted before they even locked eyes. It hideously obvious and downright dull, L fought the urge to begin chewing on his nails at thought of the conversation that would unfold before him.

“Mr. Lawliet,” Aizawa smiled, it was terribly forced and spoke of a man that only smiled because that was what was expected of him when asking people for things.

Despite already knowing exactly who the man was, L decided to tilt his head a little to the side and pretend that he had no recollection of their previous meeting.

“Have we met before?” L asked, ignoring the proffered hand held out between them, blinking at the other innocently.

“Yes, we met at the opening of the Evil Minds Museum, Suichi Aizawa,” Aizawa offered, continuing to smile and hold out his hand, “you were displeased with the naming of it,” he added, as though it would stir L into a physical interaction with him.

“It is rather dull and blatantly attention seeking,” L said flatly, letting the boredom of it seep into his voice, he’d wanted to say sensationalism but that would have caused irritation in the man and really he just wanted the other to go away.

“How else are we supposed to entice visitors?” Came Aizawa’s reply, as though that wasn’t completely mind numbingly dull enough to have L wondering if he really was awake.

“Is there a reason why you’re here?” L asked, smiling like every second of the exchange wasn’t grating on his nerves.

“Here,” Aizawa held out a file between them, much in the same manner as he’d previously held his hand out.

“Why me?” L asked instead of taking the file, sure he was being goaded just by the look in the other’s eyes.

“You have a keen insight into how killers think,” Aizawa began and L had quite the struggle keeping himself from saying exactly what that said about Aizawa’s abilities.

“Into how people think, killers just happen to also be people,” L chose to say instead, trying his best to stay polite, it’d do him no go to piss off a man that was held in such high regards as Aizawa was.

“You make leaps you can’t explain,” Aizawa said, manila folder still held between them.

“The evidence explains, I can always explain what I’m saying, it’s other people that don’t understand,” L snapped, stood there with his jaw tight and his teeth almost grinding, he’d been had. Had risen to the bait and had known it, just hadn’t been able to help himself, which was endlessly irritating. “Fine,” he ground out, snatching the file from the other’s hand.

Leaning against his desk, making space between them, L flipped through the files. He frowned, tried not to chew on his lip, it really had been too long since he’d had sugar. All of the victims were wanted criminals or had been tried and not convicted on pure technicalities, vicious and vile creatures. From the wounds and photographs and how they’d been found, it was evident that their killer had a severe kind of disdain for them.

“A vigilante is a very pressing matter,” L said, returning the file back to Aizawa, “it makes everyone look bad,” he added, knowing that the other was being pressed to solve this and solve it quickly before the public and the media were up in arms about people taking the law into their own hands.

“Well, that file just got one crime bigger and we’re late to a crime scene,” Aizawa said, neck muscles twitching, the man obviously didn’t like being under the thumb, funny how he was trying to do just that with L.

“What are you waiting for then?” L said, gesturing to do the door.

“You, pack up,” Aizawa grumbled, standing like a man that would not be moved and by this point L had figured that it’d just be easier to go along than to fight the other off.

If L had to describe the scene in one sentence it would have been: swift and brutal personal justice. To the killer, the balance of justice was a sacred thing and causing any disturbance to it was a crime of the highest regard. It was as though his victims had spat on everything he cared about and he was reacting in kind, sinking down to the level that they had dragged him to.

“What do you think?” Aizawa asked not five minutes after they’d entered.

L pursed his lips out of the other’s view, crime scene magpies fluttering around them.

“I think it’s likely that he was bullied as a child, felt indignant at the injustice of it like so many usually do when they figure out that not everyone is going to be nice,” L said dragging his eyes over the clean and deep cut across the victim’s throat. The man’s head was lulled back against the back of a desk chair, holding on by the threads of skin and nerves. “Evidently he never let it go,” he finished.

“So what are we looking for?”

“They’ve most likely got something to do with the law, maybe a cop or a lawyer, a prosecutor, someone that deals justice,” L said, moving around the tiny apartment, hands in the pockets of his ratty blazer, “they’re good at what they do, passionate, accomplished, affluent-”

“What makes you say that?” Aizawa interrupted and L curled his toes inside his shoes.

“Just the way that they look down their nose at their victims,” L said, he wasn’t hopeful that they’d find any kind of physical evidence considering the killer’s background.

“How do you suggest we go about catching him?” Aizawa asked, sounding like he was simply asking L’s opinion whilst L felt like pointing out that that part was his job.

“Discredit him, justice is his religion, call him a false prophet,” L stated, ignoring the urge to shrug and undermine himself with the motion.

“I suppose that means a call to Miss Amane is in order,” Aizawa said, trying and failing to hide his displeasure at the idea of dealing with the plucky young journalist. L couldn’t blame him for that.

________________________________________________

Teru had certainly been busy since their last appointment, Light noted whilst scrolling through the front page of Tattle Crime, sipping at his dark coffee. From the style of the photographs it was evident that the FBI had a leak somewhere, someone that was keen on Miss Amane, but that was neither here nor there.

He was proud of Teru for sticking to his convictions, doing what others were not willing to do. The brutality was almost poetic in a distinctly biblical way, like a lost painting from the renaissance. Dark and thickly expressive brush strokes, expertly executed. If only Teru would indulge the artist within and less so the righteousness, well you couldn’t have everything.

Light sighed as he closed the window and shut his laptop, choosing instead to pull out his phone and flick through his diary. That day would most certainly be quite dull, at that moment in time Light didn’t have any other patients that were anywhere near as interesting as Teru Mikami and sadly he wasn’t seeing the man that day.

The day dragged on with no sign of holding any value for him until he was showing his last patient out, there was a well built man wearing a decent suit standing in the exit. Clearly the man was law enforcement, practically exuded that special brand of self importance.

“Dr. Yagami,” the man said, smile forced across his face as he shook the hand of Light’s patient, which was quite frankly rude.

“I’m sorry but this is a private exit that my patients use to leave discreetly,” Light said tightly, voicing his displeasure.

“Oh Dr. Yagami, I do apologise but I’m agent Aizawa from the FBI,” the man said, pulling out his identification.

“I see, ” Light muttered, scanning it, “I’ll see you next time Takashi, have a safe journey home,” he smiled warmly at his patient, the underline of the statement was evidently a cue for the man to leave. Takashi ducked his head before leaving, Light had quite frankly reached his limit for irritation and let it slip in slightly as he turned back to agent Aizawa.

“Can I come into your office to discuss something doctor?” Agent Aizawa asked, that particular kind of imposing that tended to come with the power trip that authority gave some and it set Light’s teeth on edge.

“You can wait in the waiting room whilst I finish up,” Light smiled, closing the door behind him.

He’d finished his work within the first thirty minutes, but decided to wait another fifteen before allowing the FBI agent in, punishing the other for their rudeness.

“Come in agent Aizawa,” Light smiled, holding door for the other, “I apologise for the wait but I am currently in between receptionists,” he said, leading the agent further into the office.

“Oh, it’s no bother,” Aizawa brushed it off, obviously a man who valued time from the way he jumped straight to the point, “I was referred to you by Dr. Takada, she speaks very highly of you,” he smiled, choosing to stay standing.

“She’s quite delightful,” Light said, meaning it, her particular brand of flat faced bluntness had always been enjoyable to watch. “So you require my expertise on a profile, I suppose?” He guessed, raising his brows as he spoke.

“Not of a criminal though,” Aizawa affirmed, acting like this was a solid gold opportunity.

“Oh?” Light asked, arching a brow as he tilted his head.

“Of a special agent actually, someone that some would love to analyse,” Aizawa said, as though he were dangling a carrot in front of Light’s face.

“Would I know who they are?” Light asked, suppressing a yawn no matter how much he wanted to watch the other’s reaction to that.

“L Lawliet,” Aizawa said and Light found that he was interested despite himself.

“Colour me intrigued agent Aizawa, you have my attention,” Light said, having read much about the man, Light was quite eager to see how L Lawliet measured up in real life compared to the rumours he heard in his social circle of other psychiatrists.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, this is a struggle. I'm sorry if L and Light come of as ooc, I'm still muddling through their characterisation. I hope they'll come through as I continue, so please bare with me as I find my feet, thank you.

Sitting in a chair opposite the man, Light recounted all the things that people had said about L Lawliet in his mind. The man’s appearance had been exactly as described, tatty well worn suit, hair more like a living bird’s nest that sat upon L’s head and dark circles black enough to make Light yearn for his bed just looking at the other, evidently the sort of person that didn’t care what others thought of him. The kinder people spoke of autism and childhood trauma, whilst the less kind just flatly called him a jerk that’d read too many Sherlock Holmes stories. Actually being in L’s presence, Light could safely say that both groups were quite wrong, L’s personality came out in subtleties and was beautifully out of reach.

“L meet Dr. Yagami, he’s going to be consulting on this case with us,” agent Aizawa introduced him and having been brought up to be a polite man that prided himself upon his manners Light extended his hand out toward the other. He knew L wouldn’t take it, the other man didn’t even seem to take note of his existence, which was slightly grating although not unexpected.

“So you don’t need me,” L said, the hope not reaching his monotone.

“That’s not what I said,” Aizawa said, obviously not quite pleased with the arrangement, but more interestingly unphased by L’s remark.

Light watched L drop into the seat, only sparing Light the quickest of glances. And honestly the man was so odd that Light couldn’t help but want to poke, stick in his hand as he extended his arm.

“You’re not a fan of eye contact?” Light asked, pressing his fingers together as he sat back in his chair, exuding the comfort that appeared to allude L or simply went unnoticed by the other.

“It’s distracting,” L said, still not looking at Light. “When are we meeting Miss Amane?” He asked, as though it was the dullest thing that had ever happened but Light heard the undercurrent of displeasure at being forced in the company of others. It was spoken volumes through L’s posture.

Light really tried not to smile, all self satisfied and smug. What L was it was something sharp, every edge like a razor blade ready to slice Light open upon the moment he became interesting. And Light found himself wanting to show L exactly how interesting he could be.

“If you avoid eye contact you avoid rejection and all the things that are lacking in other’s eyes or are you just trying not to be seen? Do you think we’ll find a lack of something in your eyes Mr. Lawliet?” Light couldn’t help himself, smug little smile pressed across his face like the cat that got the cream.

L looked at him then, a long hard look and chewed on his nails, an awful habit.

“You’re not profiling the killer,” L said, conviction that sounded like a force of nature instead of simply a man believing in himself.

“Miss Amane should be waiting in the lobby as we speak,” Aizawa spoke and L took the out, b lining to the door. “I believe a gentler approach would be better, there’s no need to prod him,” Aizawa said, reprimanding Light.

He knew Aizawa was right, but he just hadn’t been able to help himself, it had been quite a time since he’d meet someone so interesting.

“I apologise agent Aizawa, I was just testing the waters,” Light said, desperately hiding the smirk that begged to seep into his tone and wriggle its way over his mouth.

___

L skulked into the lobby, knowing that Aizawa and Dr. Yagami were hot on his heels, he knew he was grinding his teeth. Of course that was what the doctor was doing there, that was the only logical answer for the why the man had been surveying him. He was angry at himself for not noticing it the instant he stepped into the room, Yagami’s intentions had been obvious.

He realised that he was walking away from one uncomfortably tiresome situation and straight into another, but maybe that meant that he could be alone far quicker.

Slamming his body through the lobby doors, eyes on him like vultures picking at his skin, after this he wanted to be alone in the dark for quite some time.

“Agent Aizawa,” bleached blonde and a high pitched voice, it was akin to nails on a chalk board, raking down his spinal cord.

L didn’t move, not an inch, just stood there waiting to be called to heel. And the worst of it was the way he knew that the doctor’s focus was still on him, it was what the man had been hired for after all. He was going to wear trainers the next day and use English slang, maybe even slip into an accent that other’s would find as grating as he found this.

“Mr. Lawliet,” the firm authoritive tone, shepherd calling out to a distant collie.

After the second round of introductions where he yet again refused physical contact, L pulled off his shoes and placed them on the long conference table with a thunk. Agent Aizawa barely spared him a glance, Miss Amane stared before being pulled back into conversation by Aizawa and Dr. Yagami was teetering somewhere between hideous laughter and a sharp irritation.

L muted out the conversation, the other people in the room, flexed and curled his toes. He wanted to take off his socks but figured that would probably be the step over the line. Dared to close his eyes, pretended to hear a ferrous storm that played out behind his eyelids, could almost feel the rain against his skin.

Fond the balance before he lashed out, something juvenile made to irritate and cause alarm. He wasn’t different for the sake of being different, L had never in his entire life tried to be cool or pretend that he was someone else. There was no one he wanted to impress in that manner, he’d always just simply been who he was. Other people’s reactions to his personality where just an added bonus, a cheap form of entertainment. 

He was called upon to give a statement, a blinding fog light through the storm.

“He’s announced himself jury, judge and executioner for what he fails to do in his normal life. Making up for his impotence with something he takes great pride in,” men appeared to always react violently where virility was mentioned, which L found tiresome and illogical. Femininity was a hard thing to shake, where masculinity was a tentative thing that one always had to be seen to be reaching for in order to be considered it. Very dull indeed and wholly not worth the effort. “But this is not his job, he’s not appointed by the state or even God, he appointed himself because he believes he’s better than the rest of us. Wholly arrogant with nothing but murder to back up his claims, he’s just as bad as the people he deems unworthy of living,” he fought off a yawn, they could have used to text book for this really.

“So he has a God complex?” Miss Amane asked, head tilted.

The muscles in L’s jaw tightened to the point where he was worried they would snap, maybe if she spent less time sneaking glances at the doctor and more time actually listening her career might fair better.

“No, he believes himself a disciple of justice, the blind lady with the scales is his God,” L found his voice losing its elastic toward the end, snapping back to the accent of his youth for a moment.

The day dragged and the level of concentration it took to drive home was aggravating, he chewed on his dinner barely remembering to swallow. The moment of relief came when the tea, which was more like caffeinated sugar, touched his tongue. Then he could truly settle into the deep darkness of his home, stark bright light from his laptop bleeding out around it.

He sat on the back deck as the night grew its darkest, watching the thicket as he had watched the sea as a young boy. There had always been something so seductive about darkness and what it represented, danger, death and the unknown. Constantly staring into the eye of a black hole. The abyss is thrilling, terrifying like staring into the open jaws of a shark. L had always wanted to know everything, wanted to uncover the pure honest truth.

L had seen many things come out of the darkness, stared into it for a living. Had stared at it for a living until something he wanted to stay in the darkness stepped out into the light, that had been such a woeful time. He’d known, always knew what lied behind those bloodshot eyes, but knowing and acting where two very different processes and when the time came for action L had been hesitant.

The hesitation had been something awful, like he’d betrayed himself when he needed himself the most. He hadn’t felt like that since meeting the man with bloodshot eyes, it was truly harrowing and filled him to the brim, overflowing with the astute wrongness of it all.

Drinking the sludge at the bottom of the mug, he considered chemistry. How you could have all the same ingredients and have different outcomes depending on the volumes of each individual ingredient, for instance his tea. The amount of sugar that he was accustomed to greatly changed the consistency of the drink, from a smooth liquid to something more akin to the texture of a smootie.

___

Pencil sharp enough to slice arteries, Light scratched out the image of L, sketch book laid out impeccably against the lines of his desk. Back straight and holding the perfect form, Light wore a small smile as he remembered the man. The way L had so easily and clearly seen Teru from the man’s extracurricular activities was exquisite, L’s pure understanding was sublime.

The way L reacted to the rattling of the cage the man had encased him in was entertaining, forcing his comfort outward against other people. The shoes on the table was distasteful and rude but it was just a retaliation against the discomfort Light had pressed upon the man, the least he could do was forgive the small impoliteness when he himself had been impolite in the first place. At least the shoes were very obviously not new, he wasn’t a man of superstition but traditions had to be practiced otherwise humanity would lose its tentative hold on its beginnings.

He wondered how justice would play out between L and Teru, whose side she would pick. The law would very much fall on L’s side, but there was such a compelling righteousness to Teru that Light understood.

Teru Mikami was a kind of kindred spirit, although Light preferred to work sporadically and a bit more towards what he believed would be to justice’s actual tastes. He wasn’t so hideously obvious either, but at least Teru would be served justice eventually. Light wondered if the man would welcome being caught or if the man would just feel like he hadn’t done enough, probably the latter, the work of justice was truly never done in this rotten world.

Light was so thankful to have two people walk into his life that were very much not boring, although Mr. Lawliet might prove himself an issue Light was sure that they could do some real good together.


End file.
